The Darkest Shadows
by peut-etre-poulet
Summary: LOST/Dark Shadows - Claire attends a Friday the 13th party and soon realizes her life will never be the same again after it. - SPOILERS: Par Avion


**Title::..**The Darkest Shadows

**Rating::..**M for adult themes and coarse language

**Spoilers::..**_Par Avion_

**Genre::..**Horror

**Characters::..**Claire Littleton and Barnabas Collins

**Author's Note::..**I don't usually write cross-overs so I'm not sure if this should be classified as one, I've just taken two characters from separate stories and put them into a situation together to test how Claire would act. This was inspired by the greatest vampire movie ever, which is _Dark Shadows_, starring my darling Johnny Depp and directed brilliantly by Tim Burton. I waited six years for this movie and it didn't disappoint. I wrote this on Friday the 13th, so that explains the freaky theme, I thought it would be cool to explore the darker side of Claire that we see displayed all too briefly in _Par Avion_.

**Summary::..**Claire attends a Friday the 13th party and soon realizes her life will never be the same again after it.

* * *

How did Claire get herself into these situations? Was it all just bad luck, or did someone upstairs really dislike her? Lately the idea that she simply had terrible luck hadn't been holding up for her, who had luck this bad? It wasn't natural. She was pretty sure fate was going to drop a bus on her sooner or later. She had been living on borrowed time ever since the accident and now the universe was trying to correct itself by wiping her off the face of the earth.

She thought she shouldn't be surprised to find herself separated from her friend in this crowded house. A Friday the Thirteenth party - it had seemed like a fun idea, or at least it seemed like a better way to spend her Friday night rather than getting drunk alone in her flat. But she wasn't having much fun; this hardly seemed worth shaving her legs for.

All of the costumes looked impressive. A lot of the attendees had taken the 'dress-up' suggestion very seriously. Almost everyone she passed was covered in fake blood. They would have been a fun crowd to hang out with, were they not too preoccupied by dry-humping each other.

This included her friend. Nora had a crush on one of the guy's hosting the party and she had asked Claire to come along as a reliable wingman. Apparently Nora hadn't needed her help too desperately, as Claire moved through the crowd she couldn't spot her friend anywhere and this low-lighting wasn't helping her cause at all. She was feeling very ready to give up her search; quite sure Nora was off somewhere fucking the guy anyway.

Finally Claire made it out of the sea of writhing bodies and began to mount the stairs. She was less determined to find Nora, especially as her need to find a bathroom grew.

She started knocking on the doors of the hallway; there was no way for her to tell the bathroom apart from all of the shut doors. She knocked and then gently pushed each door open. Unfortunately for her the third door she reached didn't lead to an empty room like the others.

The candle light illuminated a couple on the bed. Her eyes were stuck on the persistent movement of the man. She thought the red high heels dangling off the bed might have been familiar. But soon the continued screaming of the woman began to annoy her and she decided she didn't care that much.

She managed to get the door shut before her laughter broke free. She clapped a hand over her mouth, no better than a child. She managed to regain control of her breathing. Then the idea popped into her head to ask them for directions to the toilet and she started laughing again.

Clutching her stomach she proceeded to the next door. Another light tapping before she pushed it open, praying she didn't have to face more of the same from the previous door. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the bathroom.

After relieving herself she took a look at her reflection. She adjusted her white dress, content with how her ghoul makeup looked. She gazed into her own eyes, psyching herself into going back out to the party.

She left the bathroom and at once a pool of light cast on the other side of the hallway caught her eye. A door was open with yellow light spilling out. She was certain that door had been shut when she'd entered the bathroom. Maybe whoever had switched the light on could help her find Nora. Steadily she approached this open door, feeling she had nothing to lose.

But the room appeared to be empty at first. She stepped in, casting her curious eyes around the small room. There wasn't much to it, just a short, wide table. As she drew closer she saw what was lying upon the table-top. It was a half-done puzzle, which depicted a large castle with a haggard looking family standing in front of it, all in gothic attire.

As she was studying this unusual image she heard the door snap shut. She spun around, but didn't find anyone on this side of the door and the window had been closed the whole time. Who was trying to keep her in here?

"Don't go."

She had barely taken three steps toward the door when this desperate voice caused her to turn back around. A man was coming out of the shadows in the corner, walking purposefully toward her.

She tried to act casual, despite how unnerved she felt by his sudden appearance, it was like he had stepped through the wall, which she knew to be impossible. "Hey, I was just looking for my friend. Maybe you could help me; she's with this guy named Damon. Have you seen him around?"

He didn't respond at first, too distracted by staring at her it seemed. He was dressed immaculately, as if he belonged in the puzzle with the other 1900's-dwellers. His skin was very pale, almost entirely white while his lips were deep red. She thought a lot of time had been dedicated to this costume, maybe he lived with his mother.

"You look so beautiful." He said, his voice as smooth as silk.

Despite herself a blush rose in her cheeks, which probably wasn't visible beneath all of her makeup. "I bet you say that to all of the un-dead brides."

"Hardly." He dismissed.

She was beginning to feel uncomfortable under his unwavering eyes. "So anyway, about this Damon guy, do you have any idea-…?"

"We don't need to go anywhere." He informed her.

"Actually I'd kind of like to find my friend, so I think I'll just pop-…"

The space between them was suddenly gone and his freezing cold hand was on her upper arm. Okay, now she was definitely freaked out. She tried to turn away from him, but the next thing she knew she was flat on her back on the table, the edges of puzzle pieces digging into her skin. His body hovered over hers, his horrid breath filling her senses. She couldn't struggle, instead she found herself completely frozen.

Two holes were pierced into the fair flesh of her neck. He began to lap up the blood greedily and her head became very cloudy. Her eyes fluttered shut, black roses blooming behind her closed eyelids. Fear restricted her throat and she couldn't hope to make any calls for help.

Then a new emotion began to rise up within her. An unbelievable pleasure began to surge through her body. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Her body began to tremble from the incredible force of what seemed to be an oncoming climax. Her panties felt constricting.

It took a few moments before she realized she had begun to hum and bit into her bottom lip as an attempt to stop this. She reached up to cover her face with her hands as the wave of arousal only grew more powerful. She didn't want this to go any further, but her body was betraying her. She wasn't going to let this pervert know how much she was enjoying this, that was practically giving him permission to do whatever he wanted.

But it was getting even harder to resist. She grabbed a handful of his hair, certain she would soon draw blood with how hard she was biting into her bottom lip.

Holy fuck, was she seriously about to come?

Then the world went black and she felt as if she were falling. His stench started to fade away, replaced by something more familiar.

When she opened her eyes she was in her car and all around her the world was lighted by the sun. Wiping away a line of drool she leant forward and attempted to figure out what had happened. Thankfully she was alone, but she had no recollection of how she had gotten here. Everything was swaying as she looked around, trying to regain her bearings.

She was parked on a street that had been over-flowing with party-goers cars the night before. Now her little green car was entirely isolated. She glanced up to the large house on the hill as more memories returned to her.

In a panic she readjusted the rear-view mirror to inspect her reflection, willing it all to be a dream. This was met with great relief when she saw her neck was untouched, the puncture wounds she had imagined had been exactly that, a figment of her imagination.

So she'd dreamt it all up. She was used to her dreams being so vivid and the theme of the party had clearly infected her mind more than she had expected. She had always been a fan of vampire stories; it should've been a greater surprise that this was the first sex-dream featuring a blood-sucker she'd ever experienced. She decided it was all the cause of her sexually starved body and started her car up.

But she didn't buy into this idea entirely, still tense as she made her way to her flat. She had to keep transferring her hands off the wheel to wipe away some of the sweatiness of her palms. She felt very paranoid, her eyes wide as if expecting her enemy to leap out of a close-by bush.

In addition to the paranoia she also felt incredibly _odd_. She felt disorientated and not entirely in control of her own body. Her motor skills weren't as good as she was used to, it was almost as if she had been switched into a new body and had to re-learn all of the controls. She couldn't get her body into the right gear.

There was a sinking feeling inside of her. She felt hollowed out, like some of her organs were missing. Not to mention how ravenous she was, when was the last time she had eaten? It felt like she had spent days avoiding food.

The car ride passed by in a daze and she considered herself lucky to reach her home unharmed. The keys jingled manically in her hands as she worked to unlock her front door. Immediately she proceeded to the bathroom where she threw up, her shocked mind unable to comprehend what may have or may not have happened.

She thought it may help her feel better to wash her face. But the makeup remover didn't seem to be working. No matter how hard she scrubbed the white paint would not come away to reveal the pink flesh beneath. After a few minutes of continuous wiping she gave up the cause. She remained ghostly white with deep, dark shadows cast beneath her eyes.

She screamed aloud when her phone suddenly began to ring. At first she didn't want to answer, certain it would be _him_ (whoever he was or if he even existed). Eventually she walked over and picked it up. It was somewhat comforting to hear her boss' voice on the other end, a sign that the world hadn't gone entirely crazy.

"Your shift started half an hour ago, where the hell are you?" Brooke demanded. "Oh wait, did you hook up at that party last night? I don't care whose bed you've just woken up in, get that slutty ass of yours into work right now."

"I'm leaving my apartment now." Claire promised her.

The only sane thing to do was go to work. She couldn't spend the whole day pacing around her apartment, making a mental list of everything that felt weird. She changed out of her costume and collected her handbag. On her way out the door she pushed on a pair of sunglasses, needing something to cover her suddenly sensitive eyes.

* * *

Claire's restlessness was not cured upon arriving at the tattoo and piercing parlour. Brooke quickly became frustrated with how distracted Claire was, but she simply couldn't buckle down and concentrate on the job she was usually so great at.

Her focus slipped even further when she realized Nora was nowhere to be seen, despite being scheduled to work today. She found something she could concentrate on. Claire dialled Nora's number and waited as it rang. In all of her blurry recollections from last night she couldn't remember seeing Nora after she had disappeared with Damon. Who knew where she was now? Claire was ready to swing into full panic mode when she received no answer from Nora.

She asked Brooke if she could take her lunch-hour early and flew out the door before she could refuse. It was out-of-character for Nora to ignore a call. Something suspect had happened at that house and Claire was determined to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

Claire felt braver than usual as she drove up to the mysterious house, standing on its own at the end of a steep driveway. Her grip upon the steering wheel was powerful as she felt more attentive than she had all day. She felt very sure of herself and this caused her to carry herself taller in her walk to the front door. The house loomed over her, but she kept herself steady, not allowing herself to be intimidated.

The door was opened by a woman she didn't recognize. After introducing herself as a friend of Damon's she was granted entry. The scarcely lit house looked entirely different as she took the first cautious steps in. It was quiet, so quiet, she felt very unnerved.

There had been more than one urge to lead her back to the house. She was desperate to find Nora and know that her friend wasn't in any danger. But she also needed to prove something to herself as well. She needed to know about what had happened in that room, one way or the other.

She didn't wait around for the woman to return with Damon. She took off on her own, tracking the same path up the stairs as she had less than twenty-four hours ago. She kept her ears strained for the slightest sound, moving closer to the door. She released a breath she hadn't been aware of holding as she reached for the knob.

The room was much bigger than she recalled. The amount of space had been doubled, it was far less cramped. But she still took small steps, the lack of light making her feel petrified she would trip over something among the many shadows.

She reached her hand out in search of a light-switch and barely a second later she heard a footstep on the opposite side of the room. She clenched her fists and tried to shift the lump out of her throat. "Who's there?"

"You came back." The voice made her stomach clench at once.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"Maybe this will jog your memory." He hissed.

She didn't hear any further footsteps, but the next thing she knew he was upon her. She was forced against the wall, losing her breath in response to his hands on her.

She found she wasn't as afraid this time around. She welcomed the pleasure as it rode in on a wave of pain. Following the pattern of their previous encounter she didn't think he would try to hurt her. This allowed her to enjoy the rush of bubbling endorphins.

There was no point trying to deny it, she was on the brink of a mind-blowing orgasm. Stars were blooming in front of her eyes as she clung to his shoulders. He drained her blood at a relentless rate but she didn't care how dangerous it was. What little control over her body she had maintained quickly disappeared and she began to moan.

This time she remained conscious long enough to reach her peak. She supposed he got tired, because not too much later he backed away. Through the darkness she saw her blood surrounding his mouth like a beard. But she wasn't scared or even disgusted.

"What have you done to me?" She asked, still confused by everything she had experienced since first stepping into this room.

"It's already started to happen." He informed her. "Take a look."

She followed the gesture from his pale finger to what appeared to be a large mirror. She wasn't sure what point he was trying to make, but approached the ornate frame anyway. The closer she got the more her confusion deepened. She couldn't see herself within the frame. The rest of the room was reflected faultlessly, except she wasn't anywhere to be seen.

She tried to keep herself calm and reminded herself that just because he hadn't killed her yet didn't mean she could trust him. "It's a trick mirror." She didn't even know if those existed, but that idea was much easier to digest than the alternative.

He appeared beside her, failing to show up in the mirror as well. "Are you sure of that?" He collected a book of matches from the counter below the frame. She watched breathlessly as he struck a match, the end igniting at once. He kept his eyes locked on her as he raised the match, presenting it to the mirror.

She let out a scream at what she saw. Now she felt scared. Something had finally caught the reflection. The tiny flame floated in the middle of the frame, supported by nothing. It appeared to be levitating, as if by magic. But she knew it was something much darker than that.

"You turned me into one of you." She gasped.

"It would appear so." He replied.

He discarded the match and strolled away. She didn't pay much attention to him, instead staring transfixed at the mirror. She couldn't move, she was frozen as the realization dawned upon her. It was a lot to absorb and she wasn't sure she could fathom all of it.

When she could finally turn away from the mirror she thought he had disappeared. But then she spotted the open casket on the other side of the room. It was beautifully made, lying on the ground inconspicuously.

She walked over to it, studying his still figure within. He was lying upon the plush satin, his arms crossed over his chest. Their eyes met and she couldn't help feeling things could be much worse. The decision had already been made for her; the only thing she could control was her reaction. Did she fight it or accept what she couldn't change?

"I've been feeling dead inside for a couple of months now, so the irony of this whole thing isn't lost on me." She informed him.

His lips curled into an unsettling smile. "I'm glad."

She lowered herself into the box, allowing herself to be eaten up by the darkness.

**The End.**


End file.
